


Locked out of heaven

by Comedia



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:56:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8728090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comedia/pseuds/Comedia
Summary: Five times Poe Dameron takes Luke Skywalker flying, and the one time they don't need a ship to reach the heavens.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I'm not that knowledgable when it comes to Star Wars. I fell head over heels with this pairing because of the brilliant ["to the sky without wings"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5609887/chapters/12925093), and I've been enjoying the small fic community born from leupagus story immensely. Since there are so few stories about Luke and Poe I decided to write one of my own, and well, this is it. I've done some research, and I'm hoping that there aren't too many horrible inaccuracies.

The morning is crisp; a soft breeze against his skin and twirling mist across the launch base. It has been a sleepless night, as usual, and Luke finds himself wandering through hangars and workshops to find some sense of calm. The logic, the constant of mechanics, has a calming effect on his nerves. More often than not does he feel drawn to the metal; the fuel; the ships. He knows many would find it surprising. Someone of his status, of his legend, is supposed to be above material things. Luke is supposed to find comfort in wisdom and nourishment in meditation and companionship in spirituality. More than once has he longed to inform his allied, the Republic, the galaxy, that this is not the case. Every time he has remained silent.

But like this, early in the morning, he’ll allow himself to wander carelessly. The arms of his robes rolled up so he can enjoy the sunlight and the cool air. Not schooling his expression into the perfect mask of the scholar, the teacher, the Master. It’s a moment all to his own. As he admires the engineering of the resistance, his lips curve into a faint smile and he does nothing to subdue it.

It’s been so long since he had the chance to fly. Embraced by the heavens, just for the thrill of it.

Luke is old enough to know his instincts well. There’s a current flowing through the launch base, beckoning him. Teasing the edge of his thoughts. Years of experience whisper at the back of his mind, asks him to proceed with caution. But he’s on his own, and his heart stills carries a steady pulse of recklessness. Enough to follow the trail of warmth, to allow it to pull him in.

He ends up in front of an X-Wing, but of a model he has not seen before. It’s slightly bigger, it’s shape a little clunky. As he slowly traces it’s awkward angles and lines with his gaze, he concludes that it must be - or have been - some kind of experiment. Perhaps abandoned before it was seen through. Curiosity spikes, his fingers itching with the need to explore. To find out whether the ship is even equipped to leave the ground.

Brilliant dew drops cover the harsh exterior, sparkling in the morning sun. He lets his left hand trace across uneven metal, feeling the water droplets break and warm to his touch.

“Quite a beauty, isn’t it?”

Luke startles at the question, even though the tone is soft, welcoming. Almost conspiring, as if he’s invited to share a secret. As he looks up from the ship he finds Poe Dameron leaning against a wall nearby, his lips curved in a lazy smile, his eyes on the ship rather than Luke.

“I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” He means to look back at the ship, but his gaze is still on Poe. The pilot is dressed down, a loose fitting shirt carelessly tucked into a pair of brown pants. Something dark is smeared across his forehead. Luke can imagine him absentmindedly wiping sweat of his brow, forgetting the oil and rust that has stained his hands. He knows the feeling too well. Tending to a mechanical object that’s never quite finished.

“It’s a pet project of mine. I come here to work on it when I… have the time.” Poe finally turns his gaze to him, those warm, brown eyes meeting him head on. Despite the fact that the pilot clearly just caught himself almost sharing something personal, his expression is open, inviting.

“Have you flown it?” Luke turns back to the ship, taking it in once again. Knowing the work that has gone into it, he suddenly understands why he was drawn to it. Poe’s dedication and care pulses beneath the hull of the ship.

“Many times. It just hasn’t been approved for combat.” Poe doesn’t sound too sad about it. He takes a few steps closer, and looks curiously at Luke where he explores the ship. When Luke throws him a glance he’s met with a quirked eyebrow and an unreadable expression. “I haven’t flown it the way it was meant to, though. If you’re interested, I mean…”

When he trails off Luke can’t help but smile. It’s all he can do not to laugh. He has seen enough of Poe Dameron to know him as a cocksure pilot. Someone who handles most social situations smoothly, a quip here and a sarcastic remark there. Whatever this is, it’s new. A different facet to him that Luke hasn’t seen outside of this moment.

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” The pilot finishes somewhat weakly, while looking mightily displeased with himself. Or at least Luke assumes that Poe is feeling awkward about the situation, and not him.

“I’m still not sure what you’re asking of me.” Luke points out, and he cannot quite keep his voice neutral. There’s a teasing edge to it, something Poe seems to immediately pick up on.

“Just your company.” Poe says, but the smile spreading on his lips adds a layer to his words that Luke isn’t sure if he’s interpreting correctly. “It’s a tandem ship, but I’ve only ever taken it out on my own.”

“I haven’t…” Luke catches himself, and pauses as he turns his gaze to the blue skies above them. The welcoming soft clouds. The stains of pink and streaks of orange. Embers left behind by the bright dawn. “It’s been a long time.”

“All the more reason to come along.” Poe’s shoes hit the hull of the ship with a dull thud, and he swiftly clambers to the cockpit. Once he’s got it open he looks down at Luke, leaning precariously against the damp metal. “I know that expression, you know? Of being grounded too long. And honestly? I’d enjoy the company.”

Luke’s heart beats heavily as the moment is frozen between them. Since he came to this base he’s had to accept that he’ll always be on the outskirts of the community of the Resistance. It’s a role he’s used to playing by now. The Last Jedi; The Hero; The Failure. He will never be a person. The days of being Luke, simply _Luke_ , are since long over. Rey respects him as a teacher; Finn looks up to the legend and leader; Leia cannot afford to see him as an annoying brother when he’s much more of an asset, and Han, Han is… Luke finds himself here often. His mind leading him down paths he wishes he could avoid.

It’s tempting to reach out. To search Poe’s intentions, his feelings. It would be so easy, and Luke is disgusted with himself for even considering it. But this is a rarity, something alien. People don’t seek _Luke_ out. They don’t see his humanity, not with all the layers of legend and rumours and propaganda surrounding him. But no matter how long he ponders the invitation, he cannot think of a single alternative to Poe’s claim that he would enjoy the company. If there’s an ulterior motive, he cannot detect it.

As he takes a few steps toward the ship, Poe flashes him a brilliant smile. “You won’t regret it. The skies are beautiful at this time of day.”

The X-Wing is not in great shape, but Poe handles it well. They take off towards the horizon, staying on a straight course for a moment. Luke can feel the hum of the engines, the pressure of gravity, the final resistance as they break through the atmosphere. The cockpit is small. Small enough for their elbows to brush as Poe reaches for certain buttons and levers. Luke keeps a steady gaze out the window. Relishes in the familiarity of it all. The homeliness of the turbulence and endless view of space.

The planet lies lush and pastel beneath them. Water and earth flowing together, partly hidden beneath the clouds. Only at this distance can he truly appreciate the beauty of the life beneath him. Up close he must face the complex, intricate, toxic conflicts of individuals trying to build a world together. From afar, he can pretend that this is something that they’ve already accomplished. That he can rest.

They’ve been on a steady course for a few minutes when the ship suddenly does a barrel roll, and Luke cannot help the expletives that follows in its wake. Some of them in a number of languages, some of them along the lines of “Tauntaun fucker”, which has Poe burst out laughing. When Luke turns to the pilot he gets nothing but a wink, and he replies in turn with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

He lets his gaze linger, taking in the focus of Poe’s eyes as they dart between the dashboard, the controls, and the vastness that’s spread out in front of them. A long time has passed since the first time he met Poe Dameron. Then the pilot was only a couple of years old, hiding behind his mother’s legs, peering at Luke with wide eyes. Not sure how to best approach the child, Luke had simply claimed that he was here to gift Poe the tree that he had meant to give to his parents. As soon as the promise of a present had been made, Poe had excitedly approached Luke, greedy hands reaching for the sapling.

Life is a strange thing. He can still remember visiting Shara and Kes, and Poe proudly showing him the progress his tree had made. It feels like a different life, a different galaxy.

The pilot next to him is like an entirely different being, but Luke is still painfully aware of where their acquaintance started. Still feels deeply guilty when confronting just how intriguing he finds the man Poe has grown into.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Poe does not sound sorry at all, and his apology is belated. More than anything, he seems to have picked up on Luke’s mood, and perhaps he’s trying to distract him.

“Of course you couldn’t.” Luke tries to sound as dry as possible, and it earns him a chuckle. “I won’t blame you for showing off. You’re quite a pilot. And quite… lucky.”

“Lucky?” Poe turns his full attention on Luke for a moment, looking slightly perplexed. “How come? You should know, speaking in riddles is not allowed on my ship.”

“A fascinating rule.” Luke falls silent for awhile, not because he’s thoughtful, but because he enjoys this. Talking to someone who doesn’t expect his every word to be steeped in wisdom. The simplicity of banter. Comfortable silences. “And I’m just saying that, looking back, you’ve got an interesting streak of… luck.”

“Yeah, now you’re not even speaking in riddles. You’re just being obnoxious.” Poe informs him, straightfaced, but his voice warm with laughter. “Are you saying I’m not skilled at what I do?”

“I would never.” Luke reaches over and pats Poe’s hand where it’s resting on the dashboard of the ship. It’s meant to be jokingly patronizing, but he finds something else in the gesture. Something resembling companionship. Intimacy. “But I have observed somewhat of a pattern. You have quite an intuition, don’t you?”

Poe is thoughtful now. Either he has just caught onto what Luke is talking about, or he has decided to stop dancing around the subject. “I know I’m force sensitive, if that’s what you’re talking about. And I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t helpful.”

He falls silent for a while, and Luke does not press him with questions.  After all, it’s not an uncomfortable silence, and he feels at home like this. Above the clouds. Beyond the atmosphere. Separate from everything that is his life right now, except for the pilot next to him. “Sometimes I wonder what kind of person I would be without it. If I had survived this long, if I had been capable of doing the things I do…”

It’s more honesty than Luke expects, and there’s an uncomfortable current to Poe’s words - to how much Luke can recognize those worries and fears. Part of him; the Teacher; the Master; the Symbol of Wisdom and Patience; wishes to support Poe in this. To ensure him of the inevitability of things, and to tell him that he shouldn’t doubt in his skills. But part of Luke, the part that is only human, the part that is _Luke_ , wishes to open up about the doubts he’s been harbouring for so long.

“You never truly know how much it affects events”, he eventually says, his voice harsher than he intends. “Events, or… people.”

Poe studies the control of the ship for a beat, and then turns completely to Luke. His eyes are searching. Curious. In those dark depths lies a warmth and an understanding that is all too enticing. He doesn’t recoil or seem frightened, and Luke finds comfort in the way he leans a bit to the side to close the distance between them, rather than shying away. “Don’t you? Wouldn’t you be able to feel it, somehow?”

Luke runs a hand through his hair, absentmindedly, until he notices the way Poe’s eyes are drawn to the movement. “I guess I do. Logically I know that I wouldn’t influence an individual without knowing.” He says it with conviction, a promise he makes to himself all too often. This time it’s a promise he makes to Poe as well. “But there’s always a gnawing… doubt…”

“I can’t imagine what that’s like. To hold that kind of power.” Poe doesn’t sound in awe, nor does he sound afraid. He says it with compassion. Empathy. As if he actually can imagine the burden Luke shoulders each day.

Luke gives him a small smile, just the slight curve of his lips, before he tears his gaze from those brilliant eyes and look out the window instead. “You shouldn’t underestimate that smile of yours. I estimate that you should be able to lead at least a dozen people off a cliff using it.”

His off-hand comment has Poe laughing again, loud and bright. “I always remembered you as being funny, you know?”

Luke turns back to him at that, can’t really help how the comment draws him in. But he schools his expression, doing his best to look unimpressed. It only causes Poe to laugh again, and Luke truly doesn’t know if he’s being mocked, or if he’s missing something.

“No, really! You’re subtle, I’ll give you that. And I think that’s why it slips people by. But I see you, with your unimpressed looks and your dry comments.” The smile never leaves Poe’s lips, and something like fondness crinkles at the corners of his eyes as he instigates the descent to the planet again.

“In order to see me, you must watch me.” Luke says it mildly, almost sing-song-like, and is surprised to see Poe flustered as a result. His eyes staring straight ahead, a blush rising on his cheeks. It’s unexpected, and something Luke is not quite ready to push further. Instead he clears his throat, and nudges Poe lightly with an elbow, trying to keep it lighthearted. Easy. Because he has appreciated this, more than he can properly express. Returning to the skies, to space, flying for flying’s sake.

“Thank you, Poe”, he says, slowly, deliberately, putting thought into each word. “From one pilot to another. It’s been too long since I last allowed myself… this.”

“Don’t mention it.” The blush is slowly fading from Poe’s cheeks, but there’s still some hesitation in his movements. Something shy about the way he glances at Luke. “I appreciate the company. If you find yourself longing for the heavens, you know where to find me.”  
  
And Luke does not know where to find him, not exactly. He has never been to Poe’s quarters, nor does he have a faint idea of where to locate him on the base. But all the same he gives a quick nod. “I might just take you up on that.”


	2. Chapter 2

Poe hasn’t slept in days. He’s feeling slightly disoriented, but knows that staring at the ceiling for another couple of hours won’t do him any good. Instead he wanders the base, BB-8 beeping worriedly at his side. The corridors are long and sprawling. Usually they lend themselves well to early morning walks. Allow him enough space to work up a sweat and embrace the exhaustion. But the air is dry and suffocating. He needs to get outside. Needs something to do with his hands.

With a slow but steady pace he makes his way to the launch pad. Closes his eyes and breathes for a moment. Feels the cool, humid air against his skin. The scent of wet grass. Fuel. Paint. BB-8 leans against his leg, tries to steady him a bit; knows what he needs to be grounded once he’s in a downward spiral.

The tandem X-Wing is separated from the other ships. Off to the side, indicating that its not to be tampered with. He greets it like a dear friend. Letting his hands caress the hull, murmuring sweet nothings as he surveys it up close. The lighthearted - almost joking - attitude does not come easy. His voice is unsteady beneath the weight of insomnia. Beneath the pain and fear that still echoes through his veins and mind. He keeps his voice soft, because if he doesn’t, he might lash out. He keeps a smile on his lips, because if he embraces the pain he’s not sure if he’ll be able to pick himself up again.

It’s easy enough for Poe to lose himself to routine. To the way he easily loosens a panel of the hull, untangling wires and examining the slightly rusty insides. The X-Wing is old and spent, and working with it is always messy. But there’s something about getting his hands dirty that calms him down. Something about the sharp edges and the risk of electrocution that makes the ship just that more dear to him. Perhaps he enjoys the fact that they’re both a little damaged.

Poe knows he’s being watched. While the morning is cool there’s a warm presence by the edge of his thoughts. It has only been there for a few moments, just out of reach, when the new arrival decides to make himself known.

“Is it duty that calls to you this early in the morning?” Luke’s voice is mild, as if he’s trying to sound neutral but can’t quite the teasing edge from his words. Poe chuckles, but does not turn around. He’s still off-balance, and does not trust himself to school his expressions into something sociable just yet.

“I certainly wouldn’t call it duty. The General would be very unimpressed if she knew I spent more time on this scrapheap than my X-Wing.” Poe’s voice is uneven, rough, and Luke has to pick up on it, but if so he makes no comments on the matter. The fact that the older man doesn’t pry has Poe all the more willing to make an effort to push through his discomfort and open up to him. “I needed some fresh air, and I like to have something to do with my hands. It keeps me… distracted.”

There’s the soft crunch of footsteps against the dusty ground. Poe has spent a lot of time thinking about the way Luke moves. There’s something restrained to the set of his shoulders. Something hesitant in the way his hands move slowly, deliberately, even when simply straightening his robes or gesturing during meetings. Behind those heavenly blue eyes, something is carefully contained. Poe would lie if he said it didn’t intrigue him.

Suddenly the warmth is not only by the edge of his thoughts anymore. Luke leans against the hull of the ship, close enough to brush up against Poe. It’s for but a moment, yet Poe finds himself wrapping up his work so he can extract himself from the ship’s insides and chase that fleeting contact. As he turns to Luke he’s met by tired eyes and a cautious smile. It’s enough to have his mind blank for a second, until his lips curve into a smile, the gesture so natural he feels like he couldn’t stop it even if he put his mind to it.

“Distractions can be useful”, Luke agrees slowly, his words carrying too much weight for something stated so nonchalantly.

Poe offers him a nod of acknowledgement, and then decides that he’s done working on the X-Wing for the day. Hauling the panel up from the ground and securing it back on the ship takes but a moment. Then he’s ready to offer Luke his full attention, however lacking it may be at the moment. He finds Luke watching him with an unreadable expression, the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes softening his gaze somewhat.

“And what calls to you this early in the morning?” Poe tries to keep his tone lighthearted, but his entire body feels heavy as he slumps against the ship next to Luke.

“The outside”, Luke replies, looking as if he has surprised himself with his answer. “It’s been a long time since I resided in a place like this. It’s quite… claustrophobic.”

Instinctively Poe wants to mention how he sometimes can’t breathe when he’s in his room; how the space is too cramped; how it closes in on him like the confines of a grave. How - despite having spent most of his adult life in cockpits smaller than any quarters he’s lived in - he longs for the engines and the acceleration and the open skies. Something stirs in his chest, struggling to burst through his rib cage and ask Luke if he feels the same.

“It’s easy to feel trapped when you’re confined to a base.” Poe states his observation weakly, busying his hands by rubbing them on his pants, staining the fabric with oil and dust and lord knows what else.

“Perhaps we should allow ourselves to break free?” There’s a mischievous note to Luke’s words, and he raises one of his hands to trace the hull of the X-Wing. The familiarity of it, how a pilot’s experience so clearly guides his fingertips, ignites a warmth that spreads up Poe’s neck.

“You read my mind.” Within a moment Poe has climbed to the cockpit and wrestled it open, his mind already soaring far above the base. 

“No, I didn’t.” Luke says it quickly, almost defensively. Poe has half a mind to tease him about it, but then the significance of the words hit him. He needs to stop for a moment and take a deep breath, fondness spreading like a shiver through his being.

Then he turns to look down at Luke, smiling openly as he extends a hand to help him up. “I guess you just know me well, then.”

Luke’s gloved hand is cool in his, but the grip is gentle. There’s a grace to the way he climbs the ship and sits down in the cockpit, watching Poe with expectant eyes while they prepare for takeoff.

Once the deep hum of the engines fill the ship Poe tears his eyes from the dashboard and the unruly nature outside. Last time they went flying he noticed something, and he very much would like an encore. As they leave the surface of the planet, headed for the stars, there’s a change to Luke. His eyes widen as they lose the guarded edge he seems to reserve for when he’s down on the ground. A smile warms his expression, crinkling the corner of his eyes.

Poe sets them on a steady course, just below the thick layer of clouds. They’re cruising above an endless sprawling forest, dull waters and dusty dunes. In a different light he might think of the planet as beautiful, but in this moment all Poe can think of is how he has brought the one beautiful thing from the surface and into the sky with him.

“I must admit, I came to find you out of selfish reasons.” Luke sounds somewhere between bashful and sly as he speaks. He glances at Poe, the brilliant blues of his eyes twinkling in a much too inviting manner. 

“Oh?” Poe pointedly looks at the dashboard, even though there is currently nothing he could gain from studying it. Except giving his eyes something to do that does not involve staring at the man next to him.

“I was hoping to find you”, Luke muses, and Poe gets the impression that he’s trying hard to keep a noncommittal tone. The aloofness doesn’t particularly suit him. “It’s been a trying couple of days, and I found myself thinking a lot about… this.”

“Feeling isolated down there?” Poe asks, knowing that he’s projecting, but having a hunch that Luke might just be able to relate to his unease of life at the base.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? This ship is smaller than any space down there, but when we’re up here I feel like I can actually breathe.” Luke’s voice is like gravel, and his words hit a bit too close to home for Poe. Normally he would joke or laugh to diffuse the situation, but he can’t really bring himself to. He’s much too worried about ruining this confidence he has somehow found with Luke goddamn Skywalker.

“I know what you mean.” Poe pauses for a bit, glancing back at Luke, feeling his heart swell when noticing how his expression is still gentle, his eyes still bright. “I’ve found that I can give up most things in life, but flying isn’t one of them.”

Luke simply hums in reply, his bare hand raised and trailing the inside of the ship’s windows. Slow, calculated movements. Poe sees many things in the way his fingers move; ship formations; blueprints; constellations. A mechanic’s precision; a warrior’s carelessness; a lover’s touch. He turns his gaze back to the dashboard for a moment, feeling the need to steady his breaths and clear his thoughts. When he finally speaks up it’s with a too bright tone of voice.

“Rey and Finn giving you grief?”

Luke chuckles at his question. “Oh no, not at all.” 

There’s a pause, and it lingers for much longer than Poe is used to. It’s not Luke’s way of speaking, nor is it because he’s contemplative. There’s something about it that has Luke seem almost… fearful. Eventually he speaks, and his voice is hushed. “But their enthusiasm is intimidating. I’ve met many young people like them, and I’ve never… it never ends well.”

Instinctively Poe wants to wrap the man in his arms. The weight in his words; the regret; the pain; the worry; it’s heavy just listening to. Poe only knows in theory, through word of mouth, what Luke has lived through. The tragedy of it all should be enough to break anyone, even the Last Jedi.

“They’re strong kids”, Poe speaks slowly, his words almost getting stuck in his throat. Some part of him knows that no matter what he says, it’ll be meaningless in the face of Luke’s fears - and yet he wishes to try and make this better. “Nothing is certain, but… they broke me, easily. Rey on the other hand? She can handle whatever they throw at her. I don’t doubt it one second.”

Luke doesn’t say anything, and Poe does not dare look at him. For a moment there’s nothing but silence, and then Luke’s bare hand is on Poe’s shoulder. His touch his light, gentle, almost as if it’s not there at all.

“They didn’t break you. You’re still here.” Luke says it like a question, rather than a statement of certainty. It’s almost enough to have Poe fall apart.

“Don’t feel like it.” His voice is rough when he speaks. Uneven. He says the words, but it’s like his body is physically resisting letting all of this out into the open. “I feel it, you know? All the time. I don’t feel alone in my head anymore, and I sure as hell don’t feel safe. I close my eyes, and the pain is just… there.”

The ship is shaking slightly from turbulence. The windows are stained from mist and frost. Luke’s presence is so warm next to him. Blinding like the myriad of suns above them. His hand is still on Poe’s shoulder, and he’s squeezing harder now. Worry in his caress, urgency at his fingertips.

“I know what it’s like. It’s hard finding your way back to normal life. For a while everything feels muted…” Luke grows silent, but his voice is steady. It’s clear that he speaks from experience, and Poe can’t help but wonder how many times the Jedi has been through some form of torture. “It’s important to reconnect with life through positive experiences. And feelings.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Poe can feel the built up fear and anger and pain from the past couple of months threatening to claw its way out, so he does his best to shut the conversation down. He finds that the best way of doing so is to turn to Luke with a small smile and offering him an outright wink. It’s enough to have Luke stare at him with his lips slightly parted, his eyes wide enough to be something between pleased and flabbergasted.

“Good.” There’s a hint of laughter when he speaks, and his gaze lingers on Poe for a second before he turns back to the outside world.

Soon enough they head back for the base. The comm-link keeps blaring, requesting both their presence for all kinds of briefings. Luke rolls his eyes at the orders and shuts the damned thing of with the flick of a finger, and Poe couldn’t keep from smiling if he tried.

As they land the base is brimming with activity. Several pilots and mechanics tending to their ships, a constant chatter and clatter around them. Poe wonders how long they spent in the air, but can’t for the life of him make a proper estimation of how long they were gone.

He quickly climbs out of the cockpit and makes his way to Luke’s side of the ship, holding out his hand to help him down. Luke accepts his help, holding onto him with his bare hand. It’s textured; years or working and fighting and living etched into the palm. Poe absentmindedly traces across Luke’s knuckles with his thumb, mostly driven by curiosity, thinking only of his actions as exploratory until he realizes how intimate the touch is. He startles, and looks up to find Luke’s blue eyes on him.

Poe expects to be reprimanded, to have Luke pull his hand away. But those heavenly blues are still soft as they regard him, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes hinting at a smile. The bustling of the world around them falls away, and the heat of their joint hands feels like the center of the known and unknown universe. 

The moment lingers, until it doesn’t anymore. Luke offers him a polite farewell, before heading off to accept his duties for the day. Poe leans against the ship, staring into the sky. His cheeks are warm, his heart racing. All he can think about is how the skies bear the color of Luke’s eyes, and part of him feel like he’s still stuck in that moment. Still being regarded with calm and warmth and something tangible that Poe doesn’t quite dare reach out for yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I write short things on [tumblr](http://comediakaidanovsky.tumblr.com/) as well (but mostly I just cry about fictional characters).


End file.
